Connecticut Straight
by deepfriedcake
Summary: What's a Connecticut Straight? Something to ruin a French Twist!


**Connecticut Straight**: _In a tale of romance, the maneuver needed to counteract the effects of a_** French Twist.**

For me, this is the vilest episode of all seven seasons, and it remains the only one I've watched but once. When my crazy brain refused to turn off this story idea I tried to read the script but I started gagging around the time Rory took Lucy and Olivia home with her to Stars Hollow. (Seriously, were they trying to kill us?) So if any dialogue in this story actually matches something that truly happened in the show, trust me, it's pure coincidence.

* * *

_Stars Hollow_

_Luke_

The truck shook and then seemed to hesitate when he eased it into 'park' in front of her house, as if even the gears and transmission and windshield wipers were asking him to reconsider what he was doing. The motor gave a final rumble of protest before the wheels agreed to settle into the ruts marking the side of the road.

Luke took his hands from the steering wheel and slid them nervously over the dark denim of his new jeans. His truck didn't seem to be convinced of the wisdom of this visit and truthfully, neither was he. He took one more breath and pushed open the door.

The sunny late fall days that had graced Stars Hollow were no more, having been pushed out of the way by the sharp November winds that even now were gusting billows of leaves down the street. Luke shivered as he tugged the sleeves of his leather coat down over the black sweater she'd once picked out for him, so long ago now. The wind breezed through his hair, making him wish he'd grabbed his hat after all.

Right before he slammed shut the door his eyes swept over the empty passenger seat. Frowning, he wondered if he should have brought flowers. It felt like he should have brought _something_ as a peace offering. A gesture of his intentions. Some sort of internationally understood sign of goodwill.

Halfway up the porch steps he realized he should have brought hamburgers. And chili fries. And coffee, of course. Lots of coffee.

The thought of her response to that made him smile, so he was smiling when she opened the door.

It was obvious that seeing him standing there was a shock. Her eyes went wide in surprise and then shifted into guilty panic. He couldn't stop staring at her. His eyes finally came to rest on her mouth, which was molded into its habitual pretty pout, the natural shape her lips took on if she wasn't smiling. His heart all at once felt like it could burst just from missing her.

Her head snapped backwards and she regained some composure. "Well, if it isn't the Ghost of Christmas Past."

"Something like that," Luke agreed easily. He was still smiling softly at her.

Lorelai's shoulders rose slightly while she pulled in some air. Her eyes searched the background behind him. "Mind you, I'm not like flabbergasted or anything like that. Now, if Ed McMahon was standing here, with the big cardboard check and the balloons, then I'd be all jumping up and down and overcome with emotion."

"I could go get balloons," Luke suggested, slipping effortlessly back into the grumpy bantering he'd always done with her. "What type do you want? The shiny Mylar ones that tangle around the power lines and damage the environment?"

"I don't need balloons," she stated quietly, which effectively shut down the bantering. "You want to come in?"

"Sure. Thanks." He held his breath and brushed past her holding open the door for him.

"It's messy," she warned him, and he grinned in satisfaction. Of course it was messy. When wasn't it messy? The idea of her homey messiness made him feel cozy and welcomed.

The level of disorder in her living room, however, was over-the-top, even for her. It looked as though the entire contents of her closet had leaked through the ceiling and ended up strewn over every piece of furniture. Shampoos and eyeshadows and magazines peeked out from under piles of slacks and sweaters.

"Sorry." She gathered clothing from a chair and dumped it on top of a stack already teetering on the couch. She motioned for him to sit while she pushed some dresses and skirts over to the sofa's arm, making herself a clear spot on which to perch.

"So, how have you been? How's, um, how's April?" Lorelai kept her arms folded across her stomach and stared down at the tips of the fuzzy pink socks just visible from under the hem of her jeans.

"I'm fine and April's good. Great." Luke kept nodding, even though she wasn't openly looking at him. "She's doing terrific in school. And actually, she's going to be staying here with me soon. Anna's going out to check on her mother and April's staying with me so she doesn't miss school."

"Wow." Lorelai pulled her head up and studied him quickly. "Sounds like you and the Dragon Lady finally made peace. Good for you."

Luke shrugged. "I think she's just finally accepted the situation. I'm not going to go away, and sometimes it's convenient to have somebody else around. I don't fool myself into thinking it's more than it is."

"But still, it's better for April if you two aren't fighting over it." Lorelai's voice sounded strained, trying to get the words out. She turned to the side, fidgeting slightly, and automatically reached behind her head to pull her ponytail tighter.

Had Luke been standing, the emotional wallop from that simple movement would have probably brought him to his knees. It was the little gestures like that, things he didn't even know he'd missed, that now threatened to tear him apart.

He cleared his throat and reached for his hat, forgetting it wasn't on his head. His hand smoothed over his hair instead, making him feel like a dope. "Getting ready for April to come stay with me has made me think about how much things have changed. I've been thinking about all that's happened this past year, since I've met her. Hard to believe it's been a year already since I found out about her and…" His voice trailed off while Lorelai's eyes, smoldering with recriminations, burned into him long enough for him to feel singed. "Anyway," he plowed on, "it's been a year already since I found out that I had a daughter and tried to incorporate her into my life. And I realize now ― well, I didn't do a very good job with that."

Lorelai mauled her bottom lip and kept her arms crossed tightly across her chest, apparently holding in whatever words might be on the verge of exploding out.

"The reason I came over tonight is because I know I need to apologize to you. I don't know why I hadn't tried seeing it from your side. I guess I pretty much ignored the way I was treating you with April. I can see now where you maybe thought –" He looked over at her and caught her eyes for just a second before they both quickly looked away. He had to swallow hard to clear the obstruction in his throat again. "Anyway, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry if you thought I was pushing you away. That's not…That certainly wasn't what I intended."

His words died away and he waited in agony to hear what she'd say. So much was riding on what happened next.

Slowly and with great effort, she unclenched her jaw. Her arms loosened from across her chest. Then one hand flipped in careless artifice through the air in front of her. "Unnecessary," Lorelai strove to declare with an airy unconcern.

"What is?"

"An apology. It's over. Done. Water under the bridge, right? Or is it over the bridge? I can never remember exactly how that goes." She frowned off into space, mulling that over.

Luke gave a snort. "You don't think I need to apologize?"

"Nope." She shrugged, still trying to show how little it mattered to her. "I mean, it's sweet that you want to. It's a totally Luke thing to do. But it's not needed. We've moved on from there, right? I mean, it's been what, six months? And you know what they say about time and healing and all of that stuff."

Luke felt like something large and heavy had run over him because his chest hurt. "You're healed?" he asked, not trying to mask his disbelief.

"I hope so. I hope you are too," she added generously.

Looking off to the side towards the window, Luke shook his head slightly, trying to get his bearings. "Then why haven't you been in the diner?"

Lorelai chuckled but she didn't really sound amused. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You just pointed out that it's been six months. Six months, Lorelai. And you haven't been in the diner once." This time he shook his head at her. "I figured you were still mad."

He could see her bristle, the easy-going act fading away. "I'm not mad."

"Then why haven't you been to the diner?" he pushed.

"I did that for you." She flounced in her seat, trying to find more room between the mounds of stuff. "I assumed you wouldn't want to see me."

"You assumed wrong." He looked straight at her, holding her gaze when she finally got around to meeting it. "If everything's peachy between us, then come to the diner," he goaded her.

Now some sort of preserved anger seemed to be running through her veins, filling her up. She scrunched up her lips way past the pouty look. "Fine!" she finally burst forth. "If it's that important to you I'll come to the diner when I get back! Happy?"

"You're going somewhere?" Luke glanced at the upheaval in her living room with new eyes. Packing. Of course. He should have realized.

Lorelai's face changed instantly. He'd seen her look that way before, usually when she wanted her mother to stay ignorant about something but had inadvertently slipped up in front of Emily instead, spilling the beans and ruining her plans. "Yes," she reluctantly grumbled.

"Where are you going?" Because really, how could he not ask?

She took her time answering. "France," she finally said despondently.

"France? Like the country, France?" Again, he felt like a dope, but his mind was spinning. Why so far away?

"That'd be the one," Lorelai agreed without mocking him, beginning to pull little bumps of wool from a sweater wedged against her leg.

Luke was desperately trying to remember the name of the business hotshot who'd tried to buy the Dragonfly the spring before last. The guy who'd wanted to pull Lorelai out of Stars Hollow and fly her all over the world. The guy who'd wanted to ruin their plans before they even got started. "Why are you going to France?" he asked while his heart pounded.

She seemed resigned to answering the question and didn't hesitate except to take a deeper breath first, while her fingers methodically kept pulling off the little knots of wool. "Chris and I are taking G.G. there to see Sherry." Her gaze never strayed from the sweater.

For the first time ever, Luke wished he would have listened to the gossip that surrounded him each day. He wished he would have gone to Patty and begged her to tell him everything she currently knew about Lorelai. "Oh," he said on a long exhale, and he could actually hear the hope he'd carried when he came through the door oozing out with the word. "So… you are with him."

For once it was her silence that told him everything he didn't want to know.

He felt like he was choking, so he was surprised when his words came out so clearly. "I guess you're right. You've healed."

Lorelai dropped the sweater and started rubbing her fingers together. "Luke, I'm sorry," she said miserably. "This isn't the way—"

"No, no." He shook his head and held up a hand, trying to stop her. "It's OK. It's fine. Like you said, it's time to move on. I waited too long, and life goes on and all of that sort of feel-good crap."

"Luke," she said, hanging her head, sounding like she was somehow pleading with him.

He looked around the room, cataloging everything he'd fixed at one time or another. "Listen, I figure I might as well finish this now. After all, can't feel more foolish than what I already do."

Lorelai whispered "Please don't do this."

"I know it's too late to talk about any sort of second chance, or third chance, or whatever number chance it'd actually be," he continued, talking over her weak protest. "But here's the thing, Lorelai. You were a big part of my everyday life long before we became –" he paused, trying to think of some way to define what they'd been together – "more," he finally summed up, satisfied with that description. "And I miss that part. I miss seeing you, and hearing your never-ending stories, and plotting with you on ways to trip up Taylor. I just miss you. And I guess I was hoping that somehow we could get back to being whatever it was we were to each other before. Before we started dating, or fell in love, or fell out of love, or…" He struggled through another pause when his throat closed up on him. "Anyway," he said gruffly, trying to get to the end, "what do you say? As corny as it sounds, couldn't we just go back to being friends again?"

"Oh, Luke." Lorelai's voice was small and shaky and sad. "I don't see how."

"But—"

"I'll come to the diner again," she threw out immediately. "I promise I will. But trying to find that easy thing between us again, to pretend that nothing's changed, and we're suddenly back to how it used to be before, that's…" She trailed off, shaking her head in misery. "That just seems masochistic to me. Maybe sadistic, too, I don't know. But cruel, definitely. Too cruel, to both of us. We can't, Luke. At least I can't. I can't."

He'd already known it was a lost cause so he didn't waste more time trying to convince her. "I understand," he said stoically, standing up. "I should get out of here, then. Let you finish up your packing." He headed for the door, listening hard for her muffled footsteps following him.

"How long will you be gone?" he attempted to ask conversationally, his hand on the doorknob.

"About ten days."

"Quite a trip," he commented, longing to be on the other side of the door. "Especially for a little girl."

"Well, that's why Chris wants me along," Lorelai snapped, her mood suddenly flaming up. From her position next to him he could feel the anger catching in her. "_He_ knows how good I am with his daughter. He's _happy_ that I can help him with G.G. It makes _him_ happy that they can share this trip with me!"

Luke took his hand off of the doorknob long enough to pass it tiredly over his eyes. "I get it, Lorelai. You don't have to rub it in."

She swallowed down whatever else she wanted to say and just stood there, downcast and sullen.

He couldn't completely cut out the sarcasm. "Good thing you're not mad."

Her jaw tightened and her eyelids squeezed shut, trying to regain control. "I'm not mad," she muttered.

Luke nodded at her obvious lie, and tried hard to end with some sort of pleasantry. "Have a safe trip."

Lorelai looked defeated. "Thanks," she said wearily.

"See you when you get back," he threw out, flinging himself out of the door.

"See you," she somberly said in parting, and closed the door behind him.

Gratefully the dark hid him as he escaped to the truck. But once inside, the dark couldn't hide the empty passenger seat. The emptiness mocked him without mercy all the way back home.

* * *

_Paris_

_Lorelai_

"Honestly, did you ever think we'd get here?"

Lorelai swirled the wine in her glass and looked around at their surroundings. "Where? A dark restaurant in the wee hours of the morning?"

"No, you silly goose." Christopher chuckled and leaned closer. "Here. France. Paris, specifically. Did you ever think we'd finally get here?"

"That sounds like a cue to start rolling the cheesy Parisian montage of the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe and quaint cobbled streets and snooty mustachioed chefs and such." Lorelai took a gulp of the fragrant red wine instead of a more lady-like sip and felt it buzz straight to her head. "Better play the patented French-sounding music over it." She pretended to look around frantically. "Hey, where are the can-can dancers?"

"Ha-ha." Christopher shifted his chair so that he was closer still to Lorelai. He reached over and caressed her arm lying on the crisp white tablecloth. "But seriously, Lor, here we are. Just the way we imagined it back when we were mere fantasizing teenagers. Did you ever think we'd finally get here?"

"Yes, I did," she replied coolly, her fingers tightening dangerously on the thin stem of her wineglass. "You might recall that I'm not the one who thought we couldn't do it in the first place."

He released her arm and sat back heavily in his seat, snagging his own wine glass to take along with him. "Come on, Lor. That wasn't practical. It wasn't part of our plan."

"But Rory was a part of the plan by then. There was no reason we couldn't have schlepped her around in a backpack. People do it every day."

"But then it wouldn't have been just me and you, living out every detail from your parents' Michelin Guide. Sleeping on romantic park benches. Finding secluded little eateries such as this one to take us in and feed us when no one else would." He proudly nodded at the dark walls enclosing them.

Lorelai held her tongue, as she so often did when the talk between them turned to those early Rory years, and took another solid hit of wine. She sniffed at the savory smell of what she thought was beef broth and mushrooms floating in from the kitchen and hoped it wouldn't be too much longer before whatever the chef was preparing ended up in front of her. She was hungry enough to eat anything. Even if it turned out to be _la lapin._

The conversation teetered for a moment longer before Christopher rescued it. He leaned towards her again, piling on the boyish charm, circumventing the awkward prickliness that still occasionally revolved around their daughter's birth. "Hey, let's talk about something else now. Let's talk about how unbelievably wonderful you are."

"Oooh, let's." Lorelai mock-saluted him with her wine glass. "Always a favorite topic of mine."

"Seriously, Lor, what would I have done without you on the plane? You'd think by now I'd be getting better at this whole 'entertaining the kid' thing. Why didn't I think to bring along more distractions?"

Lorelai smiled but her heart wasn't in it. "Traditionally, dads get a pass on that. But I agree: Get a clue, Daddy-O! Transatlantic flights call for more something more heavy-duty than a coloring book and crayons."

"What was that pink compact thing you pulled out?"

This time Lorelai's smile was sweet with memory. "Polly Pocket. Rory loved them. There were years where we never set foot outside of the house without one of them tucked away in her bag."

"Well, Ms. Pocket sure saved the day today. You know how much G.G. adores you, don't you? I'm pretty sure she thinks that you're just a big kid that gets to drive and has a credit card."

"The feeling's mutual. She's a great kid, Chris. Truthfully, I'm just thrilled she lets me play with her." A happy tremor passed through Lorelai as she remembered the needy little arms clinging around her neck on the plane. She always wondered what she'd be willing to do to be the beneficiary of that sort of unconditional love again. The answer to that was starting to become crystal clear.

"And, in case you didn't pick up on it while we were there, Sherry is now totally in your corner, too."

The wine sloshed when Lorelai paused to look over the rim at him. "Is she now?"

"Oh yeah. I got a whole lecture in the kitchen about the glory that is Lorelai Gilmore, child-tamer extraordinaire."

She was genuinely puzzled. Sherry had certainly been, well, Sherry, but Lorelai hadn't picked up any effusiveness beyond the normal. "What brought that on?"

"Are you kidding?" Chris leaned over far enough to brush his lips against her cheek before he continued the explanation. "After the way you paved the way for G.G. to want to be with Sherry again? I heard all of those stories you were whispering to her on the plane. Sherry should be in your debt forever."

"Oh, that." Lorelai shrugged it off. "I was just thinking about how potentially traumatic it was going to be for G.G. to suddenly find herself with this woman who says she's her mom, but yet G.G. doesn't really know her at all. Imagine how frightening that would be. I wanted to make sure we eased her into it. I had nightmares of us trying to leave, with G.G. running after our taxi, crying her eyes out." She nodded earnestly at him. "I really wanted to avoid that scenario."

Christopher's eyes glowed with admiration while he picked up her hand and examined it tenderly. He quoted some highlights from the fantasies he'd overheard on the plane. "Queen Mama, who had to move far away from her dearly-loved daughter, in order to run her kingdom of Magical Makeup –Land. Princess Georgia, who was flying across a whole ocean on a silver-winged horse, to finally be reunited with her mother." He shook his head in amazement. "Truly inspired, Lor. You should write all of those little stories down. How cute was it when G.G. curtsied to Sherry and called her 'Queen Mama' before she hugged her?"

"That was cute," Lorelai agreed with a giggle that was maybe more from the wine than the recollection. "But Rory's the writer in the family, not me. I'm just glad my scheme worked."

"How'd you come up with it?"

Again, Lorelai shrugged. "Little girls always love a good fairy tale. Rory wore a princess dress for a whole year back when she was G.G.'s age."

"Oh, yeah." He nodded, his eyebrows pulling together as he thought about it. "It was purple, right? I think I've got a picture somewhere of her in it."

"I'm sure you do," Lorelai said, trying not to put too heavy of an edge on the words, or remind him of all of the times she'd sent pictures to Absentee Dad while Rory was growing up. Another sip of the wine helped to mute that slight irritation.

"The other good thing is that Sherry completely approves of us now, too."

Luckily there wasn't enough wine left in the glass to splash over the rim when she thunked it down on the table. "I'm sorry – what?"

"Sherry. Us. She gets it."

Lorelai made a half laughing, half scoffing noise. "'She _gets_ it?'"

Chris turned sideways in his chair, leaned over and captured her fingers in his. "She could see today exactly how deep this relationship is between us. I think she always felt sort of threatened by how much you were in my life, but now she understands how it is. You've always been there, Lor. It's always been you and me. And for a time I foolishly thought I could make it work with Sherry. You know, ignore how I really felt about you and try to make another life with her. But that was so ridiculous. Of course it was doomed to failure, and seeing us together today, Sherry could see that too." He smiled lazily at her, tracing over her fingers. "Sherry and I tried, but it just wasn't right. You know, the same way it was with you and Luke."

Lorelai could barely force the words out of her frozen mouth. "Don't go there."

He patted her hand. "Hey, I get it. You're not ready to talk about it yet. But someday, right?" He straightened up and turned back to his place. "All I care about is that you don't beat yourself up over it anymore. It wasn't a failure on your part, Lor. We were both trying to force something that just wasn't meant to be."

Before Lorelai could even contemplate a reply, movement from the kitchen door caught Christopher's eye. "Ah! I think here comes our food." He grinned and rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "At last, we feast!"

Two weary-looking waiters started positioning heavenly-smelling dishes in front of them while the chef stood close by, waiting to hear their judgment on his cooking.

Chris unfurled the napkin on his lap and leaned towards her again, a huge satisfied smile lighting up his face. "Pretty cool, huh, Lor? After all, how many times does a girl get a restaurant opened up just for her?" His hand trailed down over her back affectionately. "Just goes to show how special you are."

Lorelai ducked her head down, ostensibly to soak in the aroma arising from the plate in front of her, but in reality she was forcing back tears. Because this _wasn't_ the first time a man had opened a restaurant just for her.

She remembered oh-so-well the night when the owner of the small-town bistro boosted her up onto the counter in his kitchen and promised to cook her anything she wanted, even if it was a chocolate-dipped waffle with a bacon chaser. While he cooked she swung her bare legs and teased him about Mega-Man Protein Powder and flannel sheets and Jimmy Buffet. Her teasing stopped and his began when the cook stood in front of her, leaned against her legs, and hand-fed her every bite of the meal he'd created just for her.

Luke had cooked for her because he loved her. It wasn't to impress her or because he had the money to make people do what he wanted. His motive was so much simpler. He had the kitchen and she was hungry. He fed her because there was a time when he'd do anything for her. There was a time when her happiness had meant the whole world to him. It had been as simple as that.

Today Lorelai lied and told the waiting chef that everything was _tr__è__s magnifique_. But truthfully, every bite tasted salty from the tears she was refusing to shed.

Luckily it turned out that the wine helped with that, too.

* * *

The supremely comfortable bed in their hotel room barely registered Christopher's added weight when he flung himself down, practically on top of Lorelai.

"Oof," she said, trying to dodge him. "Watch it. Lots of digestion going on here."

He chuckled, the way he always chuckled at her remarks. But then he cradled her face with his hands and Lorelai realized this wasn't a joking time.

"We did it, you know."

"Well, not yet," Lorelai countered, giving him a suggestive look. She really hoped that wasn't what was on his mind right now, though, because the amount she'd eaten of their early morning dinner was definitely not making her feel amorous.

For once he didn't encourage her silliness. Instead he carefully stroked her hair back away from her face. "What I mean is that finally, after two decades of trying, we are in the same place at the same time."

"France," Lorelai replied, in mock seriousness.

A very slight smile passed over Christopher's mouth. "More than France, Lor. For the first time we're at the same stage in our lives at the same time. You grew up ages ago, but now I've finally grown up too. We're both single. We've both got businesses running successfully. I've finally got the money to take care of you. Rory, too. We've finally made it."

Lorelai wasn't sure if she liked him in serious mode, and something about what he was saying was setting off alarm bells in her psyche. "Not sure where you're going with this."

"Where I'm going is where I've always been. Where I should have always been. With you, Lor. We've been heading here our whole lives, and we've finally made it. This is our time. It's time to finally take the step that those two sixteen-year-old kids were too scared to take. It's time to get married, just the way we always planned."

"You're drunk," Lorelai announced, almost hoping that was true. She tried to count up the number of times their wine glasses had been refilled by the attentive but yawning wait-staff.

"Not drunk," he insisted lightly. "Just in love. In love with the same girl I've loved since I was a kid. Let's do it, Lor. Let's get married."

"Chris." For someone with an abundant stream of words ever at the ready, her brain was startlingly empty. She took a deep breath, or at least as deep of one as she could, considering that most of his weight felt like it was pressing down on her. She felt a little dizzy. Maybe from the wine. "Let's talk about it when we get back home, hmm?"

"I don't want to wait, Lorelai! For God's sake! I feel like we've been waiting our whole lives, don't you?"

"Shhh." She started to rub his shoulder comfortingly. "You might be right. And when we get home, we'll see how we feel."

"I don't want to talk about it back home. I want us to be already married when we get home."

"Oh, Chris." Stunned, her arms fell away from him, plopped down onto the cushy duvet. "Now I know you're drunk. You don't mean that."

"Why not? Why not get married here? The time's right; we're right; we're in the right place. Paris, Lorelai! The City of Love! What could be more perfect?"

"You've got to be kidding." She looked at him with hope. "Aren't you?"

"Let's surprise everyone when we get back home. Come on, Lor! Let's do it! What do you say?"

Her brain was still scrambling. "Be reasonable, Chris. We can't. No one's here. Rory's not here."

"Rory won't care."

"Rory won't care?" Lorelai ridiculed him, shaking her head. "Rory will care, Chris. Trust me, planning any wedding is a big deal in the whole mother/daughter realm. She'd never forgive me for cutting her out of something so important."

Christopher seemed to get more confident the longer this ridiculous conversation lasted. "If we come home married, Rory is going to be thrilled. We'll be giving her the present she's wanted her whole life. Best souvenir ever! Way better than the Eiffel Tower nightlight."

Insecurities suddenly dumped down over Lorelai's head. "What do you mean? Has she said something to you about us?"

"No. Not in so many words. But you know how it is. Kids always want their parents to get back together. Think how great it would be, for the three of us to finally be a family. A ready-made family, because we'd have G.G. too. I'm telling you, Lor, it's perfect."

She hated to admit that some sort of crazy logic was twisted in amongst his words. "But there's still my mother. Emily will skin you alive for depriving her of the chance to over-plan the wedding extravaganza of the century."

Chris chuckled. "Think about that. Nothing would make your mom happier than to see us finally married. And hey, if she wants to throw us some sort of shindig after the fact, that's fine. In fact, I'd marry you again, even. Put on a show to make Emily Gilmore proud." He bent down and kissed his way up her neck, ending at her lips. "Hell, I'd marry you every day if I could, Lorelai."

"This is very sweet in a sort of crazed-stalker way, Chris." She pushed at his shoulders, making him raise his head so she could see his face. "But it's very fast. How about if we get our bodies out of jet-lag first, before we make any life-changing plans, OK?"

"It's not fast." Irritation began to show in his voice. "God, how can you say this is _fast?_ Do you want it to take_ three_ decades before we're finally together? I say it's time to stop waiting. It's time to jump into it."

"I can't just jump like this," Lorelai replied automatically, and then cringed, recalling exactly why those words had sprung to mind.

"Of course you can. You're a champion jumper!" He was back to his charming, smiling self. "I'll tell you what, we'll table this for now. I warn you, though, this is definitely a to-be-continued topic. But I'm glad now you didn't say yes right away. It gives me the chance to haul you around Paris later and drop down to one knee in front of the Eiffel Tower and ask you again. And then it's off the Arc de Triomphe. And what else was it? Can-can dancers? I'll ask you in front of every cheesy photo op I can find until you say yes."

"Chris." She shook her head weakly. His spiel was getting harder to resist.

"Look, forget the getting married question. Do you love me?"

She took that at face value. "Yes."

"And I love you." He nodded confidently at her. "That's the only thing that matters, right? Everything else will fall into place, as long as we've got that going for us."

"Maybe." _Maybe this will work out. Maybe this is what I've always been meant to do. Maybe I've always been meant to marry him. Heaven knows my mother and father were always pushing me in that direction. And truthfully, there was a time when Rory bdid/b want that. Even Luke thought I'd end up with him. So… maybe…_

"Enough talk for now." Christopher snuggled down beside her, started to caress her. "Let's just rest for a couple of hours. Get ready for our big adventure in the City of Love."

His hands went to work on her buttons and she let him. The one thing she had learned was that during lovemaking she could turn off her mind. Worries simply didn't exist.

He played with her earlobe with his tongue. "Mrs. Hayden," he whispered.

Lorelai snapped her head around to look at him, startled out of her foreplay reverie.

"Just want you to get used to it," he grinned.

She blinked at him, trying not to let the panic win. _Well, why not?_ she suddenly thought, feeling peaceful once again. Then she lay back down, closed her eyes, and thought of Paris.

* * *

"Mademoiselle Gilmore, you comprehend, yes?"

With effort, Lorelai brought her focus back to the very young Frenchman at her side who was so earnestly trying to explain the documents laid out in front of her. Chris had hired him to translate for them today. A nubby gray and white fringed scarf hung casually from around his neck, making him look a hundred times more fashionable than what Lorelai felt. He was young, though, so young. Maybe younger even than Rory.

No, she reminded herself sternly. No Rory in her head. That was a rule she'd made for herself today.

Henri looked at her seriously and tried again, his deeply accented English actually making her miss Michel. "This document is heavy with importance. You comprehend, yes?"

"Yes. _Oui._ I comprehend, yes," Lorelai told him, placing a wide smile on her mouth and nodding exaggeratedly. It wasn't true, though. She could be signing up to be dogcatcher for all she knew.

But Henri nodded back, _sans_ smile, and then pointed at the lines where her signature was required.

She complied and Henri collected the papers, gave her small, elegant bow, and then went over to join Christopher and the minor city official who had apparently agreed to marry them today. Soon all three of the guys were deep in conversation, Christopher now being the one who was nodding back at the instructions being translated to him.

Funny. She never knew that Paris and Vegas had so much in common. She guessed that it was easy to get married at the drop of a hat anywhere, if enough money changed hands.

Lorelai wandered towards the front of the office, not knowing what to do with her hands without a coffee cup in them. She stuck them in her coat pockets to get them out of the way and imagined what it would be like to get married in Vegas. She pictured flashing neon signs pointing the way to 24-hour wedding chapels and officiating Elvises. Somehow she could see herself there easier than in this squat utilitarian municipal building, put up in the sixties to be merely useful and lacking any sort of Parisian style. This was definitely not how she'd ever pictured getting married.

She found that if she stood just right she could see her reflection in the plate glass window facing the street. She took one hand out of her pocket and ran it over the top of her head. Bet it'd be easier to find a tiara in Vegas, too.

No, she then told her herself insistently. No Emily either. That was another promise.

She glanced back over her shoulder. Christopher was managing to appear both dapper and prosperous in the one suit he'd brought along for the trip. Lorelai looked down at the pair of black slacks she was wearing, chosen because they happened to be the least wrinkled when she pawed through her suitcase this morning. She pulled at her turquoise turtleneck, suddenly recalling that this was the same sweater she wore the night G.G. was born. Maybe that would prove to be a good omen of some sort. She fervently hoped it would, anyway.

Chris had offered to take her shopping before the ceremony, to deck her out in whatever wedding finery she desired, but she'd turned him down. She wasn't sure why, but low-key seemed best. Best not to call too much attention to what they were doing. Just do it quietly and be done with it. He had insisted on flowers though, so a small nosegay of pink and cream roses laid waiting on the counter, matching the boutonniere in his lapel.

Lorelai turned her head back to the street scene just as Christopher patted the pocket in his jacket. She knew what was in that pocket. It was the monstrous gold wedding band he'd clearly preferred for her. Seriously, the thing was so freakin' big it was probably visible from space. And gold? When had he ever seen her wear gold? The thing looked nothing like her but yet she'd agreed to it. Back at the jeweler's it had somehow made sense. She was taking a step that was going to change her life completely. Why not change her jewelry preferences too?

She leaned her shoulder against the window, trying to relax. Somehow she never thought she'd be this nervous on her wedding day. She thought she'd be excited and giddy, and would walk proudly down the aisle to the man of her dreams, knowing in her heart that she'd made the right choice; that she'd held out for the one guy meant to be hers. And she had, right? Wasn't that guy Christopher? They'd gone through twenty years of painful mistiming and lost opportunities to get to this day. What was the point of it all if not this?

But the nerves were killing her. Lorelai pressed a hand against her stomach, thinking she might need to help hold it in place. It twisted so sharply that she wondered for a moment if it wanted to jump out of her body and run out the door. If only Sookie were here, the way she'd always pictured it in her head. Sookie would be fussing over her, buoying her up with her infectious giggle, and attempting to fix the tiara in her hair while administering scones and chamomile tea, chasing away the nerves. Sookie would –

No, she warned herself bluntly. Absolutely no Sookie.

Even though she knew she'd smear the window, Lorelai placed both of her palms flat against the glass. She rested her forehead there too, letting the coolness sink into her skull, hoping that the smooth texture against her skin would somehow help to soothe away her anxiety.

She watched the street bustle in front of her, traffic and people hurrying everywhere she looked. It had rained earlier but now the sun was starting to break apart the cloud cover.

_Happy is the bride the sun shines on…_

Lorelai sighed and restlessly scanned the street. A flash of blue darted under her nose. Startled, she jumped back from the window and watched a young schoolgirl of eight or nine race down the sidewalk. Skinny legs pumped under a blue-plaid skirt. The back of her dark blue blazer was almost obliterated by a sturdy book bag. Straight brown hair was neatly tied back with a cheery red ribbon.

Her heart pushed up into her throat, making her feel as though she couldn't breathe. Her eyes tracked the girl as long as she could, finally craning her head against the glass to catch the last possible glimpse of her.

"Shall we do this, Mrs. Hayden?"

Lorelai jumped guiltily back from the window. Christopher had materialized next to her. She'd forgotten for a second that he was even around.

"They're ready for us," he explained, seeing her confusion. He smiled, the perfect picture of a man who was getting everything he wanted. He held his arm out to her, the Christopher charm nearly palpable. "Shall we?"

"Um…" She looked back and forth between Chris and the window, momentarily disoriented. "Tell you what; give me a minute, OK?" She suddenly remembered that she could be charming too and shot him a quick smile. _"Une minute, monsieur, s'il vous plait,"_ she added, hamming it up. She swept her hands over her body, indicating that she needed to straighten herself up before the big moment.

His smile became even warmer. He stepped close, opening his arms and pulling her against him. "I'll give you the minute to get ready this time." His lips landed on hers in a lingering kiss. "And do you want to know why?" he whispered into her ear, still holding her tightly against him. "Because this is the last time I'll ever have to wait before I'm sure you're mine, Lorelai." He pulled away, giving her a little wink as he walked towards the room where the brief civil ceremony would take place. "Don't take too long though," he urged her before disappearing through the door.

Lorelai's suddenly unsteady legs swayed under her. She stared at the doorway in the back of the reception area, where they were waiting on her. She was surprised when she found her hands picking up her purse instead of loosening the belt on her coat.

Well, that made sense. She needed her purse. She should open it up and find her mirror to check her hair. Put on some lipstick. After all, she wanted to at least look decent, right?

But instead of the metal clasp of her purse she felt her hand pushing open the front door. Again, this was just her being sensible. Stepping outside for a breath of fresh air would help to settle those pesky nerves she'd been battling. A couple good gulps of air would dispel the confusion in her head. She certainly wanted to be alert for her own wedding.

Once she got on the sidewalk she was a little shocked when her legs started walking, but again, she could see the wisdom in it. She'd walk down to the corner and back, and that would surely take care of the jitters. She did want to be calm for the ceremony. She'd just walk off the shakiness.

But the next thing she knew she was turning the corner and flying down the side street as fast as possible, throwing out what she hoped were apologies in French when she jostled pedestrians. She ran as fast as she could, following the breadcrumbs from the little brown-haired schoolgirl.

* * *

_Stars Hollow_

_Luke_

The plan had been to keep his head down and ignore the passage of days. He'd work hard in the diner during business hours, cooking and cleaning and making repairs to all of the things he'd been ignoring around the place for a while. Then he'd find time to go to the library and pick up a mystery or a political thriller, maybe a Grisham or a Castle or a Patterson, something that he could lose himself in during the nights. He wouldn't turn on TV. He wouldn't pick up the paper. He wouldn't subject himself to further agony by constantly remembering what day it was and how many more had to pass before she was back home again. He didn't want to think about where she was and who she was with. Especially not who she was with.

That was the plan. It didn't work, but he'd had a plan, dammit.

Instead, a number throbbed in Luke's head each morning before he even woke up. _Three, three, three,_ played insistently in his head, already in place before the alarm rang, reminding him continually that it had been three days since she'd been gone. Or four. Or five. The soundtrack each day stayed the same. No matter how hard he worked, he couldn't escape it. It was just there, flavoring each long day with regret.

The diner patrons were no help, either. It seemed that every table he waited on was in the midst of discussing something about her or her trip. Or so he thought.

"Lor—"he'd hear, coming up from behind with a patty melt. He'd stand still and wait, fearing the worst.

"Lawrence lost his job with the delivery service," was how the sentence ended.

Or, "Chris-," he'd hear muttered in a low tone, just as he was reaching in to refill a coffee cup.

"Christina better not bring that loser with her over to my house again," would be what that group was actually discussing.

"Europe," he clearly heard someone say. He quickly turned, openly eavesdropping on that table.

"Don't know why anybody would bother traveling to Europe when there's so much to see right here in the good ol' U.S. of A.!"

He remembered how he used to be able to turn off his ears and pay no mind at all to the dozens of conversations taking place around him at once, but apparently he'd lost that ability right when he needed it the most.

Avoiding the news was a lost cause, too. Every time he turned around, it seemed like someone had left behind a newspaper with headlines trumpeting another air disaster overseas. The radio in Doose's was blaring about terrorists bombing a public park in some small scenic country he'd never heard of before. While standing in line at the gas station the CNN feed showed people in face masks while an expert discussed dire statistics about airborne diseases.

He reminded himself firmly after every scary news report that he didn't have to worry about her anymore. But he did anyway.

By Day 6 he was doing better with the whole keeping his head down thing. He'd finally fixed the shelves that T.J. had put up, replaced some tile in the kitchen, and put in a new light in the hall. If he heard anything potentially nerve-wracking he'd take a breath first and count to ten before jumping to conclusions.

That was why when he heard a slight stir float through the diner on Thursday night he didn't look up right away. He let things settle a bit and finished refilling a napkin dispenser before he decided to see what was going on.

When he finally looked up, Lorelai was sitting on a stool right in front of him. The fingers on both of her hands were curled into a death grip around the counter's edge. She looked scared but determined to hang on, as though the counter was some sort of mechanical bull ready to pitch her to the floor with no warning.

"Told you I'd come here when I got back!" she announced with as much spunk as she could, considering that she was as pale and breathless as he'd ever seen her. She had on a red corduroy jacket, the cords worn nearly smooth from years of use. Her t-shirt was a lime green one for some band he'd seen her wear a million times. A knitted black scarf was wrapped around her neck, matching nothing, and her hair was loose and fly-away, curling on its own below her shoulders. She looked either like she'd dashed out of her house without thought – or before she could change her mind.

Words usually ran at a deficit for Luke and the shock of seeing her so unexpectedly drained away the few he might have had at his disposal on a normal day. His hands, though, had no trouble welcoming her back. They knew what happened when Lorelai came to the diner. They grabbed a mug and filled it with coffee and sat it in front of her.

She stared down at the steaming mug of her favorite beverage. Slowly she loosened her fingers and clasped them on top of the counter, between herself and the cup. She sniffed at the delicious coffee smell. "Thanks," she offered, quietly. Then she tucked her hair behind her ears and brought the mug up to take a sip. Her eyes closed as she savored it. "Still the best coffee on two continents."

"I'll take your word for that." Luke put a hand down on the counter beside her and leaned on it, his mind calculating. As much as he'd wanted to be oblivious about the passing of time, he hadn't been, and he was pretty sure he knew what day it was. "Aren't you back kind of early?" he ventured.

Lorelai hunched over and studied the surface of the steaming liquid again. "Yeah, I guess. Um, yeah," she nodded, twisting on the stool. "You could say I kind of came back a little early."

She might be studying the coffee but Luke was studying her – as much as he dared, anyway. "Good trip?" he muttered, not really caring to hear the answer.

Her nod was pretty noncommittal. "Yeah, everything was fine. Um, fine-ish, anyway."

It occurred to him at that point that a problem at the Dragonfly might be behind her early return. Or even worse, what if something had happened to Rory? Or geez, what if her dad's heart had landed him in the hospital again? "What made you come back early?" he now asked anxiously.

She was back to hanging onto the counter ledge again. She gulped and squeezed her eyes shut before she answered him. "I walked out of a wedding and then I came home."

"You walked out of a wedding?" That was a crazy answer, even for her.

"Yes."

Luke was confused, but that was nothing new when talking to Lorelai. "You went over there for a wedding? I thought you went over to take his little girl to her mom."

Lorelai blew out a nervous breath. "We did both."

He really felt like there was something more he was supposed to be picking up on here, but whatever it might be was going right over his head. "Whose wedding?" he asked with a slight shake of his head.

Her lips quivered and she pulled them under her teeth for a moment, gathering nerve. "Mine," she finally whispered, and looked down at the counter.

"Yours?" Luke's mind was exploding. It was possible his life was ending, because he was pretty sure his heart was shattering too. "You got married?"

"No." She started shaking her head vehemently.

He was pacing now, clutching at the hat on his head. "To him?" His voice was way too loud; way too belligerent, but there was no hope that he could tone it down under the circumstances.

"No! I mean, yes!" Lorelai was sounding fairly agitated too. "No, I didn't get married, but yes, it was going to be to him."

He came back to stand in front of her, hands on his hips. "Really? You were really going to marry him?" He was still bellowing.

"But I didn't!" Lorelai pointed out desperately. "See? I'm here! I didn't do it!" She rapped against the counter. "I came back to the diner!"

Luke forced himself to stand still. He looked down at the floor and tried to find some sort of Zen-like pocket of tranquility, someplace within him where he could regain some calmness. He really didn't want to yell at her again.

"Maybe you can help me with this, Luke, because I don't understand," he heard her say. Her head was bent over, watching the fingers in her lap. "Why am I such a mess at this stuff? Why can't I get this right?" He didn't reply but gave his head a small shake, meaning for her to go on.

"This is twice now," she ventured. "Twice that I've had a totally wonderful, decent guy wanting to marry me. And both times I've walked out – ran out, actually – and left him at the altar. What's wrong with me, anyway?"

"You know there's nothing wrong with you," he told her gruffly.

She was quiet for several long moments. "Then why was it, the one guy I wanted to marry…" She looked up at him then, the muscles in her cheeks and forehead tensing up while she tried not to cry. "The guy I wanted didn't want me."

"That is not true." He lowered himself down to be able to see into her face, his heart pounding. "That is absolutely not true."

He held her gaze for as long as he could, trying to convince her through mental telepathy if nothing else that he was telling the truth. Her dejected eyes looked back at him until the tears started to run down her cheeks.

"This was a bad idea." Lorelai slid off the stool and turned to leave, her hands covering her wet cheeks. "A really bad idea."

Luke froze in place for maybe two seconds. "No you don't!" he shouted, but he had a good reason for yelling now. He sprinted around the counter, got in front of her, and used his body to block the door. "Not this time, Lorelai. I'm not standing here, watching you walk away from me again."

"Not now, Luke. I can't do this." She turned and headed for the door in the back.

He raced to get in front of her again, reaching out to grab her arms to detain her, but thinking better of it at the last moment. "Why did you come here tonight? Huh? Why? Wasn't it to talk to me? Didn't you want to tell me what happened and talk it over with me?" She barely nodded and he pounced on that small acknowledgement immediately. "Well then stay. Do it. Talk to me. Tell me whatever it is you want to say. I promise I'll listen. Just stay and talk to me."

She was breathing heavily and looked wretched but she wasn't trying to leave. Slowly he stepped back, giving her some space, giving her a choice. Their eyes were locked on each other, trying to figure out what the other was thinking.

Luke reached into his pocket and pulled out his key ring. He held it out to her. "Here. Take this. Go upstairs. I'll be there as soon as I can finish up down here." She took the keys but held them loosely in her hand, looking miserably indecisive. "Please," he added, the word dripping in desperation. "If nothing else, you owe me the conversation we didn't have before."

Her fingers closed around the keys and she nodded. Without another word she turned and headed for the curtain hiding the back hallway and the stairs. He watched until the curtain dropped closed behind her.

"Sorry, folks. We're closing early tonight." Luke hardly needed to make the announcement. The diners in attendance were already picking up their coats and throwing money on the tables. "Let me grab some take-home boxes for you," he offered, grateful for the easy-going crowd.

A few moments were all that was needed to clear out the restaurant. He held the door open and as most of the diners left they offered him good luck or sympathetically patted his arm or let him know that they were pulling for him and Lorelai to get back together again. Surprisingly, for once it didn't bother him that the town was so involved in the intimate details of his life. It was nice to know he had some support. He locked the door behind the last customer, flipped the sign, turned off the lights, and headed for the stairs.

Lorelai was sitting on the bottom step, waiting for him. She held the keys back out to him. "I couldn't go up there," she said. "Not alone I couldn't."

He understood. He reached a hand down to her, to help her up. Lorelai hesitated a moment before reaching up to grasp it.

They climbed the stairs together, and all Luke could think about was the first time he'd walked her up these stairs. The key fumbled in the lock.

"It's O.K.," Lorelai said calmly. He looked over at her and she smiled at him somewhat coyly. "I'm thinking the same thing," she admitted ruefully.

He had to chuckle at that and the tension broke. He swung open the door and they stepped inside. He saw Lorelai registering the April changes to the space but she made no comment. He pulled out a chair from the kitchen table for her to sit on but she ignored it and went over to lean against the sink instead. He put one hip against the table, readying himself for their discussion.

But nothing happened. Time stretched out and the distance between them became uncomfortable again. Lorelai stared mutely at the scuffed toes of her cowboy boots.

Luke sighed and said the first thing he thought of. "Were you really going to marry him?" His mind was refusing to get past that.

Her head came up and she looked at him with wry amusement. "Well, I went to the office of some sort of city magistrate who had the power to marry people. I signed the papers. So, yeah, the plan was to marry him."

"Why?" he asked, the belligerence coming back.

"Why?" She laughed thinly and shook her head. "Why not? That's what I kept hearing in my head, over and over. 'Well, why not?' After a while I decided maybe that wasn't the best reason to get married."

"You love him?" he challenged her, although it was the one answer he definitely didn't want to hear.

"Luke." Her voice changed into the gentle, soft one she had often favored him with late at night. "You know as well as I do that there are all sorts of different types of love and all sorts of levels of love, too." She pushed off from against the sink and walked closer to him, crossing her arms when she stopped in front of him. "If you'd tell me the truth right now, I bet that you still have a little spot of love in your heart for Rachel. Now I don't mean that you want to write her mushy letters or that you'd run right off and meet her in Abu Dhabi if she'd call, but I bet you still feel some love for her. Don't you?"

He was silent for a time, just watching the light play over her face. "I guess you could call it that," he grudgingly admitted. "But it's not the same as –"

"I know," she cut in quickly. "I know that. But it still endures. Maybe you're still a little bit in love with a girl you knew in 8th grade. Maybe there's still a little something in there for Anna too, for all I know."

He was instantly irritated. "It was never like that for me and Anna. We fit into each other's lives for a time. That was all it ever was."

"O.K., O.K.," she said, putting up her hands. "Still, good to know. You never really told me anything about Anna at all, so I had no idea."

"That's because there wasn't much to tell," he said, extra-grumpily. He didn't like admitting how little actual affection had been tied up in his relationship with Anna, especially now in light of April's existence.

"This just goes to show that there are a lot of areas in our lives that we could both stand to be more forthcoming about. There are still a lot of things we don't know about each other."

"Maybe," he sulkily agreed. "So is this your way of saying you do love him without actually admitting anything?"

"Like you said with Rachel, it's not the same. But yes, I do love him, and I'm always going to love him. He's known me since we were kids together. He knew me in school. He was right there and saw firsthand how I struggled with my parents. We cut classes together and played pranks together and made plans together for we'd be grown up and out from under our parents' thumbs." She sighed deeply and looked at him straight-on. "He's Rory's dad and there's no way to sugarcoat that. He's always going to be in my life, and there's always going to be a spot for him in my heart. If you and I are ever going to have a future of any type, you've got to get to where you can accept that."

Luke watched his fingers tensely rub over the tabletop. "So you love him enough to marry him?"

"You probably know more about that than I do, Mr. 'I Got Married on a Cruise Ship.'"

"Low blow," Luke muttered.

She sighed again. "That's where the whole 'Well, why not?' thing comes in again. I don't love him anything like the way I loved you, Luke. But if I can't marry you, then, 'Well, why not?'"

He shook his head, looked at her knowing his face was lined with such disappointment in her. "You were really going to go through with it?"

"Yes."

"But you didn't."

"No. I didn't."

"So what stopped you?"

"Rory," she said, looking both sad and happy at the same time.

"How'd Rory stop it?" Luke asked, thinking now about how much he always did love that girl.

"By not being there."

He looked at her, hoping for once that she'd continue to talk, because he needed to know more. Lorelai leaned against the table beside him, copying his stance.

"It was wrong she wasn't there. Chris tried to convince me she wouldn't care, but deep-down I knew better. I felt so wretchedly guilty about leaving her out that I couldn't even think about it. Luckily the universe sent me a sign at just the right time. This little girl passed by the window. She looked enough like Rory that I freaked and ran out the door." She paused and then confirmed what she'd just said with a grim nod. "Literally."

Luke frowned, trying to follow along. "You mean you just…" He waved his hand out in front of them. "You ran out? Are you telling me you physically ran out and left him there?"

Lorelai rubbed her fingers along her forehead. "Yep."

A couple of beats went by while Luke absorbed that. "Damn." He thought about it a little bit more. "For the first time, I might actually feel sorry for the guy."

"He's not real happy with me, that's for sure." Lorelai grimaced. "Hence me grabbing the first flight back."

They were silent for a few moments, processing.

"So Rory stopped it," Luke reiterated. He knew he was going to sound like a whiny little self-centered kid, but he couldn't halt the way he felt. "It was all about Rory, huh? It didn't have anything to do with, well, me?"

"Oh, Luke." She laughed again, but it wasn't her normal laugh at all. This one was tinged with such sadness. "You were the reason I was there at all. But no, I left because of Rory."

"O.K.," he said curtly. He could feel that muscle tensing in his jaw, the one that jumped when he was fighting some strong emotion.

Lorelai placed her elbows on the table behind her and leaned back on them. "You know I lied the other night, right?"

"About what?" he muttered.

"When you asked me about being friends again. When you asked me about getting back to how we used to be, or even about wanting more again. I lied when I said no."

"I knew you were lying about being mad." He chanced looking over at her. "Why'd you say no then?"

"Because you're right. I am still mad. And hurt. And scared. I'm scared of trying and failing again and getting hurt even worse the next time." She straightened up and turned to look at him. She smiled and tried to sound lighthearted. "But you know how I always want what's bad for me anyway."

He debated what that meant. "So what do you want to do, Lorelai? What's supposed to happen next?" he asked, letting her take the lead on this discussion.

She took a little time and pretended to think it over, but Luke was pretty sure she'd already figured it out. Probably while on the plane. "Next I think I go home and sit for a week. I think I hibernate in my house and think deep, sad thoughts and apologize to my kid a lot for thinking I could cut her out of a major event in my life." She raised her shoulders apologetically to him, too. "You know, I managed to shove a lot of what happened in the spring into a mental box and bury it away. I think it's time I unlock it and pull out all of the crap that's in there and examine it. I hate remembering the way I turned into a meek ghost instead of fighting for what I wanted. Somehow it was like I wasn't even me anymore. I don't understand why I did that, and I think that's something I need to figure out before anything else happens."

Luke weighed and re-weighed her words. "Sounds like that's an order for me to stay away."

"Yeah, it is. For a while, anyway. Just until I can get some things straight. Hopefully a week will do it, but it might take longer. Definitely I need some time to deal with this on my own first."

"And what about after that?"

"Then I come back to the diner, on my terms." Lorelai started to pace through the kitchen area, her brow furrowed in concentration as she figured out her plan. "When that happens I'll come in as a normal patron. I will sit at a table. I will peruse the menu. I will visit with the other diners. You will serve me as much red meat and fried starches as I request and you will also refill my coffee cup as many times as needed without comment, because I will be just another paying customer to you."

Luke wanted to point out that she'd never be just another customer to him, but he held his tongue. "How long does that part take?"

"I don't know. As long as it takes for it all to feel normal again, I guess. Until I feel confident that I'm me again." She stopped in front of the sink and ran her fingers through her hair. It fell free and loose, the wild ends curling past her shoulders, the way he liked it the best. "I guess I should have had this all figured out already and dealt with, but you know me. I don't like turning all introspective unless I absolutely have to."

"Yeah, I know. I'm not real fond of that either."

She flashed him a fast smile. "Well, there's one thing we have in common anyway." Her demeanor slowly shifted over to something much more solemn. Her voice held a heartfelt tremor in it. "And there's something else that's the same. I know I need to apologize to you, too. I'm sorry, Luke. I'm so sorry. You have no idea."

He tried not to let her vulnerable honesty completely derail him. "I think I know," he assured her. His voice was husky though, and he was sure she could tell just how much that had meant to him.

The atmosphere between them was getting too dense, too heavy for them to keep their heads clear. They both shifted positions and fidgeted.

"So," he said, striving for lightness, "what happens after the Lorelai Gilmore, anonymous diner patron stage?"

"I predict that eventually I will discover your dry wit. I will begin to engage you charmingly in conversation. I will tell you long, drawn-out jokes in which the punch line is not worth the wait. I will make pop culture references that will sail right over that butt-ugly baseball cap you're wearing now. I will tell you stories about Michel and Taylor. I will begin to tease you mercilessly."

"Oh, joy," Luke grumbled, but secretly he couldn't wait. "Sounds like this plan has a certain amount of déjà vu in it."

"Well, it worked before." Lorelai picked her way around the table, past the couch, and stopped when she reached the window. She put her hand against the frame and leaned forward, looking down at the street below. "Who knows? Maybe one day we'll suddenly realize we're friends again."

Luke began to follow her, giving in to his desire to be wherever she was.

"And then some day after that, maybe we'll see if there's still more –" Abruptly Lorelai turned away from the window and started back to where she thought Luke was waiting, not knowing that he had moved directly behind her.

Anticipating a crash, Luke put up his hands to protect her, but Lorelai managed to stop her forward progress just in time. Up on her tiptoes, she swayed towards him, caught in the current that still flowed between them. Her body pulled towards his. Her breath caught deep in her chest, while her eyes widened and darkened. Her lips fell partly open in an eloquent, silent plea.

Luke's hands were still in the air, hovering over her shoulders. He could feel the pull of her, the ache to solve all of their problems by simply taking her into his arms again. He could almost see the yearning passing between their bodies, suspended in the air like dust motes. _Well, why not?_ he heard in his head, the same reason she'd given for her almost-marriage to Christopher, and that instantly snapped him back to clarity.

He stepped back and so did she. They both took a breath. Luke took off his hat and tossed it on the table, turning partly away from her to more completely break the spell. Lorelai nervously rubbed her arms.

"I guess we don't have to wonder if the 'more' is still there," she commented after an awkward pause, her eyes lighting up with the old naughtiness.

"Yeah, that was never a problem," he said dryly, as if he needed to remind her.

"Still, good to know."

He nodded and then brought up something he knew he needed to put right. "When you're going through this process, you'll need to let me know when you're ready for April to be added into the mix. I want you two to have time to really get to know each other."

Lorelai started wrapping a piece of hair around one finger. "What makes you think Anna will be on board with that?"

"Doesn't matter if she is or not. It's what mature people have to do." Luke shrugged. "I mean, look at how you always made sure Christopher could see Rory. Hell, here he even took his daughter all the way to France for her mother to see the kid! Anna is just going to have to realize that this is how it's done."

Lorelai had turned uncharacteristically grave. "OK, when we think it's time…When both of us think it's time…then I'd love to see April."

"It's a deal." His words faded away and no others came from either of them to replace them.

"I think maybe we've said enough for tonight." Lorelai smiled in understanding and slowly started towards the door. "It's probably time for me to head home. Got a lot of thinking to do, you know, and only a week to do it in."

Luke reached for his hat, checked to make sure he'd put his keys back into his pocket, and went to the door with her.

"Whoa, there. What'cha doing?" Lorelai asked, sticking her arm out, blocking his way.

"Taking you home," he said, feeling aggravated already.

"Nope."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because…" She shrugged her shoulders. "It's too soon, Luke. You take me home and it makes it feel like we're already someplace we're not."

He didn't want to admit he saw her point. "So I'm just supposed to take it on faith that you'll get home OK?"

"I think I heard that they caught the Stars Hollow Strangler. I'll be OK, Luke. We both know that there were an awful lot of nights when I walked home from the diner alone." She gave him an almost contrite smile and reached for the doorknob.

"Hey—"

"—is for horses," she finished up. "What?"

He studied the floor, trying to decide how to say it. "In the interest of being a better communicator, I should probably make sure you know something, especially since I did a really lousy job of telling you before. I love you, Lorelai. Sometimes I don't know why I do, and there have been plenty of days when I wished I didn't, but I do."

Lorelai's eyes grew soft and luminous, and she swallowed hard before she spoke. "So, are we talking that you still have a little spot of love in your heart for me, or something more substantial than –"

"The whole thing." Luke reached for her hand, the one that was on the door, and held it tightly. "It's all yours, Lorelai."

She looked down at their hands; nodded. Swallowed again. "I'm standing here, thinking about all of the clever and witty things I could say." She looked over at him, caressed his face with her gaze. "Because this a pretty big moment and I could say something funny and take away the seriousness of it." Her grip on his hand suddenly intensified, as if she needed his strength to help her through this. "But the only thing I really need to say is that I love you too, Luke. And I agree, I don't know why you love me, and there were certainly times when I didn't want to love you either. But maybe that's what's so great about love. You're not supposed to understand it. Maybe that's what makes it love, when you feel that way about somebody even when common sense says you shouldn't."

Luke tried to scoff and then had to ignore how husky his voice was. "Who cares about common sense?"

Lorelai's eyebrows rose skeptically. "You, if my memory of many of your rants holds true."

They tried to smile and downplay the strength of the moment they'd just experienced. Her hand was still nestled in his, and suddenly the thought of letting her go from him was chilling. He pulled, bringing her a half-step closer to him. His eyes went to her lips, and the yen to kiss her pushed breathing way down on his list of needs.

It was Lorelai who regained control. "I should go," she said gently. She softly extricated her hand, giving his a squeeze as they parted. "I'll see you in a week," she reminded him, opening the door.

"A week," he repeated, wondering how in the world he'd make it through.

"It'll fly by," she assured him, almost as if she was reading his mind.

This time he had no problem at all with the scoffing. He stepped out into the hallway, watching her descend the stairs. "Hey, Lorelai?"

She paused on the next to last step, looking up quizzically.

He huffed out a breath of annoyance, whether at her or himself he wasn't sure. "Could you at least give me a call when you get home? Just so I know the Stars Hollow Strangler didn't leave your mangled corpse on the street?"

Lorelai laughed, a real, full-bodied laugh like he hadn't heard come out of her in possibly a year. "Yeah, I can probably do that," she agreed.

Luke left the railing, determined to let her go and head back into the apartment, but she called to him again.

"What?" he asked, looking down at her again, the hope catching in him that she'd changed her mind about leaving.

"I think I might like balloons after all. Get those shiny silver ones, OK?" Her face was full of happy mischievousness. "Maybe the ones with kittens on them. Ooh, no, I know! Ponies, OK? Get the ones with the ponies! Pink ones!"

"I'll see what I can do," he deadpanned.

"Thanks, Luke." Her expression changed to soft wonder. "You're a great listener, by the way."

"Glad you were ready to talk."

_Finally._ The unspoken word hung between them.

She hopped off the last step and started to walk away. "We should do this again."

"Definitely," he agreed, and then she was gone.

Luke went to the window and watched for her passing down the street. She turned at the corner, spotted him standing sentry, and waved cheerily before she disappeared from his view.

Then he went and sat on the couch, on the end closest to the phone.

* * *

**A further note from the author:**

_From the moment I visualized this story, this was where it ended. France had been dealt with and Luke and Lorelai were talking and back on track. End of story, right? Well…I've marked it 'complete' (because otherwise Oh no will never read it) but it's possible that another chapter or two might show up someday. Don't you wonder if they'll actually make it through their week apart? What will happen the first time Christopher comes sniffing around again (and you just know he will)? What will Rory think about the wedding to which she wasn't invited? Will Anna be as agreeable as Luke thinks she will about April getting to know Lorelai? And what does April think about it? Will Luke and Lorelai finally get to 'more' again? So many questions! Just don't expect the answers soon – there are so many other stories I need to tackle first!_


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